Harbor
by Lunamaria
Summary: When they have nightmares and will not ever, ever, ever wake up. – completed
1. waters

_A collection of tales that lack the endings we all hoped for. _

_.  
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_Harbor_  
one; Kairi (waters)

They wouldn't fit together anymore.

Not like they had before. She was back, he was back – they had all been restored to their former glory, islanders and nothing more. Just kids with stories about shadows, hidden galaxies and a magical key. And it was strange how it all seemed just like that – a story. It no longer felt as though she'd lived it, felt the tingle of the adventure upon her own fingertips. It was like, after everything, she was merely a wide-eyed child, begging for more stories, secretly falling in love with the hero and his beautiful eyes. Slowly but ever-surely, the war of Kingdom Hearts was swallowed up by coastal winds, rolled away like summer heat. She waited for word to come, for something more. She waited for years, praying that some mysterious door would call her name. But the story of a Mouse King and a talking duck fell into myth, twisted and tangled beyond original pristine. Sora still saved the day, but everything else went missing, irrelevant pieces of a well-worn traveler's tale. She, too, was erased from the legend whenever it rang in the ears of island children.

She didn't fit anymore, not like she had. Not like the others did, and only Sora understood. So when she took _his_ sailboat and _his_ heart, she was sure he didn't mind as she sailed off into uncharted waters. She needed something for herself... she needed something more.

And off she went.

* * *

_"And we never saw her again,"_


	2. surrender

_Harbor  
_two; Mickey (surrender)

They had all surrendered something: time, happiness, love – so many dear things. He can't really say how it is for the others, but his own sacrifice is uncharted. He hardly knows his own heart and will not presume to know what others think and feel. He is a king, not God. If he was, things would be different now. Things would not be so broken as they are; they would be better, they would be whole. But he is only a king; he cannot fathom galaxies and bring life from death – he can only take jagged pieces and try to glue them together again. He is not the creator of the glass, just the blower reworking some fractured art. If he was God, nothing would have fallen, nothing would be like this. If he was God, then–

Well, he isn't God, so it really doesn't matter. He is only one mouse with one kingdom and one broken heart. His mission is over now, and there is nothing left he can do. For all the years after, it is all left in God's hands.

The fight ended long ago. And though he is still young, his lucidity fades. He knows it breaks his queen every day to see it: his fleeting heart, his filmy thoughts, his gentle, tired way. But all he can think about is God – and why? Why let shadows swallow the worlds and capture hearts? He was only a king, what could he have done? He wonders where God was all those times, and why. In the end, he really is only a king and there is no more he can do, so little he could have done to begin with. But, why? Why let the darkness eat away the innocent heart of a boy, when all he had was a key? A key to what? To _happiness?_ The Mouse King scoffs.

It isn't until he sees that boy many years later – still with that young quality to him – that he truly believes this utter unhappiness. The boy is worn and tired, silver lines showing through his flattened spikes. He smiles but there is something behind it, something that seems not all there. He has lost something great – a little redhead who grinned at him across the waves, who said his name with a secret on her lips. Now the king, for the first time, truly hates God for all He hasn't, and could have, done. The king understands his own punishment, retribution for indecision, but this boy has done nothing. He has saved so many lives and asked for nothing in return. The only happiness he kept for himself was in the smile of a tiny fire, an island girl who sleeps beneath the sand. Why, God? It is so senseless.

He sees the boy off, Minnie's gloved hand holding his. The king forgets to hate God then, for the boy smiles brightly at them despite his loss – a clear and honest grin, this time with nothing to pull it down. The king has no right to question God when the key-wielder, who has lost much more, does not. That boy thanks God for having her at all. The Mouse King understands this and smiles at his queen.

And then he sails away.

* * *

_"The King was a mouse like anybody else,"_


	3. secret

_Harbor  
_three; Naminé (secret)

She doesn't look in mirrors anymore, and no one can blame her. Even she can't even criticize that fear – and she hates herself more than anyone. It is looking in the glass one day and learning you are merely a copy, fabricated from the life of another person. Still, she cannot even hate herself for that – heavens, she doesn't have a self to hate, only the shadow of another girl who can hate herself if she pleases to. Not that she would, for the other girl is quite happy with things. So she doesn't look in mirrors at a girl she is but isn't and she doesn't speak in a voice that doesn't belong to her. Truly, drawing is all she has, and sometimes she even questions if that is hers to keep. They could belong to the other girl, the one intended to exist – who _does_. Her pencil could betray her, but she sometimes chooses to claim that selfishness, for the sake of a sanity that plays both sides of the fence. But, then, is the sanity really hers to maintain? She is too afraid to find the answer staring back at her in the mirror.

To that end, she has learned two things from her real self – not that the other girl is her, but sometimes she fancies herself a bouncy redhead with an easy grin. One is that they both love a boy with eyes as blue as the ocean, a boy who loves the real one and sometimes wears a thoughtful expression when eyeing his sweetheart. A face that sometimes stops and stares, as if he's not really sure who he's seeing or if she's real. Naminé again imagines that soft expression touching his eyes is for her, not for the other girl who his lips and hands and heart are for. Really, all she wants is those eyes – it's the only thing she is selfish enough to dream for. From inside the real one, she cannot ask for anything else.

And the second thing she learned is to never sign her name, ever: It's one of Kairi's golden rules. When she draws secret messages and pictures in the shadowy cave, always for Sora but always hidden, she puts a hand over her heart as to talk to Naminé, saying: _He can't ever know_. Know what? Naminé thinks often. That Kairi loves him? He knows that. And so she can only draw one conclusion. _He can't ever know_.

And so when she draws, the only thing she is selfish to allow, she never signs a thing. She isn't sure she is _Naminé_ anyhow, or even if she's all or part of Kairi. She has no right to be either of them – she never had.

_He can't ever know that you love him too, _Naminé_. _

* * *

_"She is like a part of me, a sister, another self,"_


	4. king

_Harbor  
_four; Riku (king)

He invites the snow to fall in glittering flakes over his skin, to freeze the stinging of his bones. The evening sky pours with stars like he has never seen – dots blinking in and out, bits of jeweled rock sewn through a midnight sky. While beautiful, he does not allow himself to think more than that of the dark sky. It's beauty is moving, but his heart is far too heavy to be expected to do more than beat. He is lucky it even does that, let alone be expected to think so highly of lifeless stars; how many times and ways can a heart be thrust open to love and then be murdered again? Each star he sees is like a fallen friend, so many regarded lives now gone. And while they were so much better than he, he remains and he wants to know why. Why… why everything. Couldn't God just take his life – surely… surely it meant _something_, anything at all. Maybe not Sora's life or Kairi's life, but wasn't there something he could have done? Any compromise at all?

He runs his fingers across the snowy tombstone and then over the king's insignia of three perfect circles. And perhaps they weren't etched there, but he sees and feels the signatures of all who – and, oh, they all did – loved him with words like _beloved_, _loving_, _valiant_; all the things he had been and more. All the more reason Riku's life was not a suitable trade for his. In the end, it's not enough. He cannot barter river stone for precious gold and God is no fool. But what's done and past is just that, says a voice from inside. The king taught him that, that life goes on, so he tries to honor that over his grave. Riku is not the man he should be, but he tries and that means _something_.

"Minnie," Riku says and breathes out dragon's breath into the cold night. He looks beyond the fallen king to see the dimming lights of Disney Kingdom sprinkled with winter. The branches around are dying under blankets of powdery ice, sleeping until called forth by the warmer season – though life does not recycle the same way. The sleeping king will not awaken to find spring in his lungs, no. Pulling her coat closer, the queen merely nods and smiles that gentle bit. She puts her hand in his and plants a lone kiss across her king's resting place. _My king_, she inhales and then sighs, _my king_.

What a king, the boy thinks. What a king.

* * *

_"I promise to care for Disney Castle as you have,"_


	5. silver

_Harbor  
_five; Riku's Mother (silver)

It is like he never existed. Only when she sees silver fish swim by her toes, too afraid to nudge her, does she really feel he was once hers. The tiny fish swims from her, falling into the cloud of another wave and floats away. Just like her son did. Her eyes peer into the distance, but the fish has gone somewhere else and all she can see are ordinary blue ones, playing at the shore. If only she, too, could catch the cloud to find what lies beyond the sandy earth. If only she could gather him in her arms again and bundle him to her heart. _Beat, beat_, it would go. He would nudge her gently away, ruffle his beautiful hair – the loveliest she ever saw – and kiss her cheek or forehead. For now, the little blue fish kissing her toes will have to be enough. It is all she has until she sees the little silver fish emerge from the waves again.

Riku, she says and heads back to shore.

* * *

_"But I never saw that fish again,"_


	6. safe

_Harbor  
_six; Goofy (safe)

He can feel many things now, since he returned. Pain, adoration, nostalgia... the list spans on, his thoughts hosting a plethora of feeling. Sadness is paramount though, mounting everything, dominating his words and thoughts. He has missed so much, so many things he cannot make up for. Years have passed, along with them everything he has been absent for. He isn't alone in this though. Mickey, Donald and Sora too have lost the years and the memories that could-have-been. The memories that are, but where a mouse, a duck, a dog and keybearer are missing. He will never think about it to this extent, and never regrets his duties for a second. He is proud to be on the King's guard. He will never shrug his duty, even if he had dreamed this outcome. The years are lost, but the worlds are safe. For now, only for the moment; how safe will they be tomorrow, or _the next day_? It is partly his responsibility to secure their safety, at the expense of his own heart even. It is a sacrifice Goofy is all too willing to pay, if it means keeping the universe unharmed. It means he is willing to leave his Maximillion at any given moment. Again and again, if he is needed.

Maxey has grown so. When Goofy left the castle, sailing away in the King's Gummi ship for adventure, Max was left behind. He was too young to go, but old enough to understand his father's selflessness, though he was only a small pup. But the years have been kind to him, grown him out and made him a handsome fellow. Goofy likes to think Max shares as much of his looks as he did his mothers'. And he does. Goofy loves Max, despite all the years of separation—they father and son, Goof and Goof. Goofy watches his son adoringly, dreaming of all the years, everything he never got to see.

Much, so very much, has changed.

Dad, this is Roxeanne, Max says and a blush creeps over his son's cheeks clandestinely at the introduction, a group of Goofy-esque giggles following.

He had a Roxeanne while he was away? His father, again, is both proud and sad. Her red-head warms Goofy's heart. She looks a great deal like Max's mother, so lovely and happy. Max appraises her so much like he had his wife, who rests soundly in Heaven he was sure. A place where a great deal of his friends have gone, in the war that was and perhaps is to come.

Roxeanne, this is my dad, Max covers his mouth, embarrassed. And this Roxeanne, Dad, his son repeats. _Dad_, the word is as amazing as it had been.

It's a pleasure to meet 'ya, Goofy grins shyly, taking her hand to kiss it. Roxenne's musical laughter hurts Goofy's heart, it is so wonderful and musical and something he's missed.

He's missed so much. His son has grown, his only baby already strong without his father. The years when Goofy was to teach Max the finer points of life, and precautions, are already gone. This is all true, in one way or another. He isn't needed—not in the way he wants to be. Max is all grown and caring for Roxeanne now, being the man he'd turned into while his father was away. He isn't little Maxey anymore, though Goofy would give anything—almost—to have those years back. It isn't to be though, for the only thing he wouldn't give is the asking price for those years: keeping the darkness at bay. Goofy is too kind to think otherwise, even if it deprives him of absolutely everything... and he isn't the only one.

For today, the worlds are safe. Goofy will have to see about tomorrow.

* * *

_"Even as he sailed off, I loved him,"_


	7. roxas

_Harbor_  
seven; Olette (roxas)

Sora isn't there–and she wants to kill him for it. Literally, she tells the empty beach, but takes it back a second later. _Whatever_. And then she feels like a monster for wishing it all, for it has already passed, _he_ has already passed. He isn't there only because he cannot be. And again she feels like the monster she is–the sniveling monster she has become, cursing dead men who died to save the worlds from blinking out of existence like stars. Though she knows this, she does not feel tempered. Against her better judgment, her long-forgotten reasoning, she begins to hate him all over again. So she leaves the islands without even stopping to honor his grave.

For all she knows, Roxas is still out there somewhere.

* * *

_"She never did let go,"_


	8. christmas

_Harbor_  
eight; Donald I of III (christmas)

His uncle was a good duck–a shrewd billionaire, sure–but definitely a good duck. He had turned Donald into an adult, even introduced him to the king. Scrooge wasn't even a fighter–inquisitive, yes, but _never_ dangerous or even magical. He was just an entrepreneur and businessman, a duck who had earned his dollar with common sense and quick wit. Donald falters slightly as he remembers, quite despairingly, that he will never again hear the Scottish lilt of his uncle again. He wants to collapse right there, and the misstep of his webbed foot has only fed that wish. He wants to fall there, let the earth swallow him up and be with his uncle. But he is a man–a duck, he corrects–and he has Daisy back home and three nephews none-the-wiser. They will have to glue together some semblance of a family now that the hold is gone–Scrooge McDuck is dead. Donald pushes his head up, pulling the thoughts in, and walks ahead of Goofy and Sora. The snowstorm picks up, but Donald trudges on.

Later when they lay down camp for the night, Donald writes. Daisy, _boys_, he pens, brushing heavy tears from each big eye, Christmas is only a few days away. Donald pauses, weighing a nearly empty coin purse in his wing. He is now an heir, money is not a concern. To be honest, it never was–now the enormity of his inheritance _is_ a concern. But he will think of that later, so he goes on writing. He doesn't tell them of ambush or of the souls lost there, so many wasted lives, one in particular weighing him down. And still he cannot bring himself to tell them of Scrooge, not yet, not in the informality of a letter. For he himself is not even fully awake to the reality–time will make him understand. Time will bring him pain. Until then, he just writes and cries. Mostly he cries.

I'll be home for Christmas, he bows his head to the letter, if only in my dreams.

* * *

_"It became like a prison to him, "_


	9. stranger

_Harbor_  
nine; Cinderella (stranger)

She is terribly unsure of what's to come.

She's afraid to be all alone again, sitting in ashes without the light of day. No Prince, mice or birds, and no friends. There is just the old gate that holds her and a heart that aches. Things like wealth and riches never meant a thing to Cinderella, and still they don't–now more than ever, she supposes. She never thought she would be captured again, her heart missing altogether. But still she doesn't change, and that strikes her as odd and like a miracle. For it was treasures like friends and her loyal prince that kept her truly alive. Now where is she, _again? _She is lost and she isn't searching.

In the faded corridors of her mind, there are no songs that give hope to dream another day. She is awfully terrified of being alone. A voice deep within herself, that makes her a princess of heart, screams, please don't leave me here all alone. Please. And yet it does–she grows a little uglier. And she begins to forget everything. And yet there are the times–midnight seems to hold a special place in her, and each day the hazy image of a glass slipper gives her heart just a little bit more hope. She doesn't know why her heart longs so greatly for the beautiful shoe. It's all fuzzy and hard to read, a decaying translation.

Then, when she seems to be winning that bloody battle within herself, she catches a glimpse of dark chocolate hair. Then the faint tune of a song with partial lyrics like 'a dream is a wish your heart makes' and 'your dream that you wish will come true' suddenly stops and it picks up only to sputter _once_ and then _twice_ until it finally dies. Even through this, she wants that stranger to hold her close, to embrace her like he does in her dreams (her illusions maybe). She dreams she has every right to be his, even though she knows it to be a lie. She imagines it all, the love that has no right to exist.

But, then the wind blows and sorrow dons, and she realizes he was only an angel of her memories. Oh, he's gone.

When Cinderella dreams, is that really the wish her heart makes… She's awfully scared.

Her hope dies just a little bit more.

Her glass slipper looks more like plastic every day.

* * *

_"And even a princess has nightmares, "_


	10. atlas

_Harbor_  
ten; Cloud Strife (atlas)

He sees himself in that boy, or he _had_ at least, at one time or another. But there isn't much to see anymore. Sora doesn't even try to talk about anything mundane or awkward, like the weather or of his latest fallen comrade. Cloud only sees ocean eyes of absolutely nothing, shallow pools afraid to look beyond themselves–scared of disaster–staring back at him. Cloud has never tried the way he is trying now–no matter what he says, the boy just will not smile. He just nods and hums, answering in gestures and in silence. Throughout their visit, Cloud watches Sora bow his head into his hands. He does this often, his lucidity fogged and weakening. Cloud sees. And when Sora's bony fingers hold his head up as though he were Atlas holding the world on his shoulders, Cloud sees himself. Head down. Breath stalled. Limbs pounding. In that lonely world, on that battlefield smoky with rain, Cloud said goodbye to his friend. His head bowed into Zack Fair's blood, Cloud lost something of himself that day. And he said goodbye to that also.

He watches the boy leave, dragging his keyblade wearily over his shoulder. And Sora says his first and only words to Cloud that day, a hint of sadness creeping through them, You are the proof that I have existed, he says. Cloud doesn't smile and he doesn't cry, but he does amend himself because he _is_ like that boy.

And even if it is sadness, at least there is _something _to see.

* * *

_"You were the proof I needed, "_


	11. hero

_Harbor_  
eleven; Sora's Parents (hero)

He likes to imagine his son is a hero. But _she_ likes to pretend that her son is a prisoner. They argue that point a lot, and the only thing they can agree on is that one night he simply vanished. And so did they, they also agree, there is no contesting that, the entire fabric of the islands with them. They woke up somewhere unfamiliar, alarmed and unaware. Like some scene from a children's adventure film, or maybe a cartoon, rumors whispered into their temporary-home Andalasia about a boy wielding some contraption–a sword-key to conquer the darkness. The stuff of Saturday mornings curled up before the TV, cheering on the hero. And so that was when Sora's father decided his missing son was a hero. His mother, however, couldn't bring herself to believe it–so he became a prisoner in her eyes. And she raised Hell when, restored to destiny Islands and hearts intact, she learned otherwise. She hated that.

She still does. But they don't fight about it anymore, because they _are_ old and they _are_ tired, and most importantly they are tired of waiting for their son to come home with the swell. It worries her that the murmurs of the Saturday cartoons, of _Sora_ and of _Kingdom Hearts_ have all but stopped, and, secretly, it worries him too. But one thing doesn't change: she still believes him a prisoner and he still calls his son a hero.

She doesn't like that.

For if he is a hero, he won't be coming home.

* * *

_"And the swell never came, "_


	12. spring

_Harbor_  
twelve; Donald II of III (spring)

Spring… it was here.

And while that should comfort the duck, it only feeds the malice flickering in him, a small fire slowly growing, ever-hungry. The renewal of life, blossoms springing out from under the sleeping snow–it should brighten his outlook; make him believe in life again… right? But perhaps using spring as an escape, using it to make his life better, was only harming the loveliness of the season. He does not want to ruin spring along with him–too many things have been lost, and rebirth won't be one of them. He vows that. He vows it again and again, like precious words that will keep him alive. And maybe they will do just that, but whatever their purpose, he lets the syllables die into the night. It's prison here, and it is no place for a little flower curling inward without sun. He will not lose another soul–his was enough.

And eventually they all left him, but he cannot blame them for that. He would have left too, but he lives for his uncle and for his uncles' prestige. He keeps Scrooge alive in the bank statements and in his sturdy business, responsibility charged to Donald–and Donald is a duck of word and of honor. He would do anything for his uncle, even if it makes him cynical and cold. It is the only thing he can do for Scrooge, the man who made him _everything_. And if his uncle transformed him into the duck he was, Donald asserts, he can see no reason why Scrooge hasn't the right to take it all away. Even in death. So he lives in that study day after day, only pausing for minimum sleep and to visit the bank, an ugly jingle giving away his every step.

He hates but mostly he jingles, _jingle, jingle, jingle_ all the way to the bank, stomping on a loose flower in the street.

Donald forgets all hope of spring.

* * *

_"And he asked me when winter would end, "_


	13. swing

_Harbor_  
thirteen; Kanga (swing)

She keeps only one book.

It is not a large book, and it is not a small book–it is comfortably sandwiched in-between, taking up space yet not consuming it. In it she places everything: her heart, her tears, her dedication and her hopes. It all goes in there, pressed into the valuable pages. She does not (and will not) show it to anybody else, for in it she places everything. In it is her deepest self, and she has to be strong until destiny is safely shaped–that's what she tries to believe, but it is rather hard to put trust into anything when she rocks, _swing, swing_, the still figure of her only little boy. She waits for his heart to return, _swing, swing_. Every day she watches out the window, rocking in her chair, _swing, swing_, holding onto her little son, waiting for the obscured figures of a duck, a dog and a boy. But a key most importantly. And a heart, a tiny little heart, fluttering like the wind.

So she reads her not-big, not-little book to her sleeping son–at least she pretends he's sleeping–and tells him all her wishes. It is her wish book, the only book she is selfish enough to possess and foolish enough to pursue. She only shares it with her son as she watches the light-hearted adventures of Christopher Robin, Pooh and all their friends along the edge of the woods through her window. No one comes inside anymore by Kanga's request. She promises to send Roo out as soon as he's better, urging them to run along. They had given her worried side glances, but nodded and did as her word suggested.

Kanga closes her book and the _swing, swing_ of her rocking chair stops.

* * *

_"And he never came out to play, "_


	14. pastpresentfuture

_Harbor_  
fourteen; Donald III of III (pastpresentfuture)

He must come out of hiding, if only for appearances.

That's what everyone has come to, and in fact wishes, to believe. That he has grown so cold and cruel that his only motivation could possibly be for personal gain–to gain public favor, if only so little of it. He doesn't presume to know if that is true or not, for he cannot spare the little time he does have for reflection. In fact, he set aside much to make an appearance today under the skeptical eye of Disney Kingdom. It will be worth it–he owes her this much, if only this. So he holds his beak up high like so many winters ago and pushes away snow with his cane–so much like his uncle, a similar picture. Goofy Goof eyes him strangely, surprise and pity all in one. Donald has come to hate pity and spits at his old friend's foot. Clarabelle makes a sound of disgust at the duck. So be it, there is nothing to be said, and the silence and discomfort speak for themselves. Leave, they say, you've no right to be here.

He knows why they loathe him so, and he agrees completely. He ruined her. She waited for him forever–always at a distance but always reminding him. Donald, I'm here, she would write him. And he would fold the correspondence, promptly throwing it into the flames in his study fireplace. Bah. She waited until she died, never having the ducklings she wanted, never the husband she always believed he would be for her. Her faith was too kind, he thinks, and far too foolish. But he pushes his criticism down for a few minutes to hear the boys speak on her behalf–they testify to her motherly ways and her care for them when times were hard. One by one, all those gathered speak of her, save one. He sinks a little farther into his seat.

When they bid her goodbye, it is more than Donald can almost bare. To halt the tears, he sneers and the others mistake it for malice. So be it. When he approaches her casket, as he has no right to do, the boys are wary of him–Hewey and Dewey frown, turning away from the appraising eye of their uncle. He is nothing to them. Louie, however, forgoes status quo to approach his old uncle. He raises both wings to his uncle as to hold him–Donald has nothing to say, for tears block any words of which he might speak. His nephews smile, if only a little. Donald is still there somewhere–that was enough for Daisy. Donald cries.

When Donald falls to sleep that night, he is visited by three spirits.

* * *

_"And Spring did come again, "_


	15. sea

_Harbor fin._  
fifteen; Sora (sea)

There is something warm sleeping over his toes and something soft touching his skin. He can't see either one, but he feels the subtle tickle of both, familiar and fresh. He smiles, but it doesn't touch his eyes–he can't help but laugh at that. It is a small, strained, chortle. He leans over to sift the sand through his fingers, playing with the tiny pebbles that fall back to the Earth. And he hears it–the ocean, _crash, sway, shhh_. He imagines all the while bubbles touching the shore and pulling away, teasing the sandy Earth. He frowns and then smiles, the ocean rolling forward and then back again. He wades back into the water, feeling the swell and sway of sea–he remembers, but only by ear and feel. He feels the chill, and the warmth, of the waters touching his chest and he falls back in contentment. He is slightly afraid, for when he rolls back he cannot see the sky, only blackness. _Shadows. _And then he remembers with an unintentionally bitter laugh that he will never see the sky again.

He hears Kairi on the shore, her sweet voice tinged with excitement. She doesn't know what exactly, but she is expecting something amiss–she'd expressed worry in her last letter to him. Even so, she sounds happy enough that he has returned. He floats along with the swell still, one with the waves and with the sea foam. _Bhop_. Her voice urges on and then fades, her temper giving way to impatient stammers. He smiles and then remembers to frown. He lets the waves carry him back to shallow waters where he may stand on his own.

His eyes don't need the time to adjust as he heads for the shore.

He is home.

* * *

_"And he learned to live again, "_


	16. backstory

_Harbor_  
ladeedaaa; Courtney (comments and backstory)

_Kairi_;

So, about Waters, this was my hope for Kairi. If you noticed, the last italicized lines were indicators of the future of each character. So she never returned to the islands again; I suppose she found adventure. If Sora ever found her again, well, that's your decision as the reader.

_Mickey;_

Mickey, well, I hated to do that to Mickey, but as you've noticed… Harbor wasn't a happy-ending story. I needed to bring something real to Mickey as a king, and confusion with God seemed perfectly reasonable. I'm taking an Old Testament class right now and I am confused sometimes, but it's better to openly face the questions. Mickey did that, but then realized that he had no right to judge God. His ending, the little allusion, was that he either died or his sanity left him–you can decide.

_Naminé;_

The funny thing about Naminé is that she never had a happy-ending, so all I could think to do with her is to punctuate that through Kairi's happiness. Naminé never had the right to be happy and she understands that, but, more importantly, so does Kairi.

_Riku;_

Riku's is bittersweet and more of angst than tragedy. He lost one of his dearest friends and is now left to fit life back together, and he has buried many friends. He, if you didn't get it in the allusion-section at the very end, is Mickey's heir (by Mickey's decision) and will take care of Disney Kingdom.

_Riku's Mother;_

This is… kind of… connected with Riku's chapter. Riku never did return to the islands and his mother never stopped waiting.

_Goofy;_

All I have to say for Goofy is that he _was_ called away again, but Max always understood.

_Olette;_

Olette went insane a little, but moreover she was desperate to find Roxas. He was a part of her life and whether the others regained memories of him, she was well aware he existed at some point and was somewhere in Sora. So when she goes to Destiny Islands to find Sora only to discover that he died in the war, she is angry at Sora for not caring enough to keep Roxas alive. She still searches till this day.

_Donalds;_

I'll summarize all of Donald here: Donald lost his uncle, his father almost. Because the only established family Donald has in the Disney genre is Scrooge and his nephews, and in Daisy, I like to think of Scrooge as his father-figure. So when Scrooge died, in an ambush and he was a casualty for he could not fight and such, Donald at first turned strong. As I said in Donald's first chapter, he was Scrooge's heir. If you say Disney's _A Christmas Carol_ starring Scrooge back in the day, Scrooge was much like Donald in his day. He was young and in love with a girl like Daisy, but ended up being corrupted by money. I let the same thing happen to Donald. Like Scrooge, Donald lost his love–but I kept Daisy loyal all the same. And in the last chapter, Daisy has died. It is that night, Christmas Eve night, which Donald is visited by three spirits. The same happened to Scrooge, and, in fact, Donald's ending was much the same. Donald had been through enough and he eventually reconnects with his nephews.

If you read the very bottoms of each of the Donald chapters, you'll realize that Donald was able to enjoy spring one last time.

_Cinderella;_

Cinderella's heart was taken again and it was never returned.

_Cloud;_

This is another chapter in which I used the main character to depict Sora. I did this with Mickey also. Cloud recounts (from Crisis Core) the death of Zack Fair and how Riku's death has done the same to Sora as it did to him. At that point, Sora is diseased and dying also. He bids Cloud farewell and rejoins the war.

_Sora's Parents_

Sora never came home to his parents–this matches up with Riku, Kanga and Olette's chapters. They gave up hope in the end.

_Kanga;_

Kanga's chapter was inspired by this book in my University library called the "Wish Book"–it's this inoffensive white binder by the circulation desk that has to do with rules and instructions. However, I pass it every day and was greatly inspired to do something more creative with it. And Roo has lost his heart–forever.

_Sora;_

If you didn't notice, yes Sora _is_ blind. This was not an intention of mine, but it came about during the writing of the chapter. Whoops! It was inspired by the book _Graceling_ in which a character dependent on fighting goes blind and must cope with his bitterness. Sora will need to, and does in fact, learn to do the same.

_Canon?;_

Here is a key for all the chapters that connect. If you noticed, sometimes Sora is dead, sometimes not. Sometimes Mickey is dead and sometimes not–they're not all in canon with another. Some are, though.

Waters is mainly a standalone chapter.

Surrender and Safe are loosely connected.

Secret and Sea are also loosely connected.

King, Authoress, Roxas, Hero, Stranger and Swing are all connected.

Surrender, Atlas and Sea are all connected.

All the Donald chapters are connected but independent of the other chapters.

And, I have a message of thanks to all my reviewers. They kept me going, even if my bits are this small. Your support really inspired me, thank you all so much! I only ever planned on fifteen chapters, because they're real downers, aren't they? I hope you liked them. I have plans for another drabble series of brighter outlooks and aspects. Look for it!

And by the way, Harbor, the name that is, is because of happiness sailing away. The harbor is each character.

Thank you for your awesome support!

- Courtney. Questions? Ask!

* * *

_"And she intends to write more, "_


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